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Full text of "TheCompleteMemoirsOfGeorgeSherston"

glow on the horizon, and at 7.30 we reacri Boiogna.
Jolly companionship of the journey, in spite of
animal squalor and so on. Hooper rather hipped and
fussy—bad campaigner I fear. Youthful charm and
good looks but absence of guts. Howell sensible and
philosophic. Was a schoolmaster and played football
for Wales. Marshall an absolute marvel, with his jolly
face and simple jokes. Tells Hooper to come off his
perch and put the kettle on, which isn't well received
by the golden-haired one.

February igth. After a night journey of freezing
gloom, the train stopping occasionally at cavernous
stations and my insides still behaving atrociously, we
reached Faenza about 3 a.m. Turned out at 8 to a
sunlit morning and soon found ourselves washing and
drinking coffee in a hotel, moderately comfortable.
Tall clean narrow streets; marketplace full of gossip
and babble of cloaked and hooded unshaven middle-
aged men, with a sprinkling of soldiers in grey with
yellow collars. The fountain was festooned with ice,
like melted lead.

February 2Oth. Left Faenza 9 p.m. and began the
journey along the Adriatic coast. Cold morning; snow
lying thin and half-melting; grey sky. On our right
the low hills streaked with white. On the left (how
accurate I am) the flat lavender sea, flecked and
broken with foam, and the slate-coloured horizon.
Breakfast at Castellammarie.

Foggia about n p.m. Still very cold.

February 2ist. A.woke in twilight to find we were
going through olive orchards (hoary ancients bent
and twisted), with rough stone walls. First time I've
seen olive trees. Then the sun came up and dazzled
me through almond blossom, with delicate glimpses
pf the Adriatic a mile or two away. Quite idyllic,
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